


Secrets Never Stay

by purpleeyesandbowties



Series: Diverging Roads [3]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, fluff and friendship, the bridge crew!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 07:07:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18516412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purpleeyesandbowties/pseuds/purpleeyesandbowties
Summary: "When Jim meets Spock, Spock hides his ears under a slouchy hat and is careful not to speak too freely. But secrets never stay secrets in high school. Jim Kirk is determined to know what makes his quiet new boy so compelling to him. Spock thinks if any Human could be trusted to know his secret, it would be James Kirk. Jim is thrilled that his boyfriend is an alien, and Spock’s mother, less so that he knows. Even in this world without Humans in Starfleet, Kirk is destined to take on the stars with Spock at his side."An expended segment from All Roads (Lead To You)





	Secrets Never Stay

**Author's Note:**

> hey! hope y'all like this extended segment. this story is completely free-standing. you don't need to have All Roads or A Little Like Fate for this to make sense (but i'd love it if you did!). 
> 
> Warning for graphic descriptions of high school, all lifted less than lovingly from my small-town Iowa high school experience.
> 
> I'm sidras-tak on tumblr and i'm always happy to chat!

Jim knew that the best way to get through high school was to keep your head and not draw attention to yourself. Which is why he didn’t understand this new kid. At all. First of all, why would any new kid in the world come to his first day of school wearing what looked like an oversized poncho covered in hand-embroidered patterns? Second of all, he was clearly wearing makeup. Jim was known to cover up his acne with a bit of concealer now and then, but this dude had it on _thick,_ an ugly beige that obviously wasn’t his natural tone _._ And he had on some light blue eyeshadow. It framed his eyes nicely, Jim noted with interest, but still shook his head, thinking about the shit the kid would probably catch for it. Riverside was a small school in a small town, and therefore a little behind on things like boys wearing makeup. Jim cocked his head, taking in the boy’s ramrod posture and neatly folded hands, hidden by the huge sleeves of his ridiculous poncho-cape-thing. Principal Pike stood behind the boy’s shoulder at the front of the room.

“Why don’t you introduce yourself?” he said.

The boy’s voice was clear and loud when he said, “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, classmates. I am Spock…Grayson.”

Jim raised his eyebrows. The new kid had tripped over the last name like he wasn’t used to it. Maybe adopted or fostered? Or one of his parents had remarried. That was common enough.

“We’re glad to have you at Riverside High,” Principal Pike said. He gave the kid— _Spock? What a weird name_ —a nod and handed a folder to Ms. Eastwood.

“Do you have any questions?” Principal Pike asked.

“Negative,” Spock replied. Jim stifled a chuckle. Did he always speak so formally? 

“Well, then, I’ll leave you to it.”

Pike nodded at the class in general, gave Spock a squeeze on the shoulder—Spock flinched and took a small step back—and left. The door swung shut behind him and every eye in the class turned to Spock. He endured the curious stares without expression. Either he was a great actor or he actually didn’t care about making a good impression on his fellow classmates.

Ms. Eastwood cleared her throat and gestured to the rest of the room.

“Spock, why don’t you take a seat? There are a few free seats in the back—take your pick.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Spock responded gravely. He shouldered his bag and quickly made his way to the back corner closest to the window. Jim grinned. That was the gunman’s seat, a good tactical position for someone who wanted to keep eyes on the whole room and not on him. That used to be _his_ seat until Ms. Eastwood caught him daydreaming one too many times and moved him to the front. Jim was glad it was going to someone who might appreciate it.

“Oh, Spock,” Ms. Eastwood said. “Hats aren’t allowed in school. I know it’s your first day, but we all have to follow the rules.”

“I understand,” Spock said. Jim wondered if he was deliberately trying to sound emotionless or if it came to him effortlessly. “However, if you check my file you will find that I am exempt from this rule. Religious reasons.”

“Oh….alright. I’ll check on it,” Ms. Eastwood said, sounding skeptical. Jim grinned. Ballsy move to defy the teacher on day one. He made sure to catch Spock’s eye and grin at him. Spock didn’t react, aside from a look of slight confusion, and that was interesting, too. Jim turned back to the front, still smiling. High school was boring, but it might finally be getting more interesting.

—

“Hey! Hey, Spock!” Jim half-shouted over the clamor of the hallways. He didn’t really expect Spock to hear him from all the way down the hall, but the boy whipped around instantly. Jim lifted his hand in a friendly wave and Spock hesitantly returned it. Jim politely pushed his way through the throng of people and caught up with Spock.

“Hi,” Jim repeated.

“Hello,” Spock said, inclining his head.

“I’m Jim. We have homeroom and first-period science together,” Jim said, extending his hand.

“I remember,” Spock said, eyeing his hand warily and doing nothing to return the handshake. Jim lowered his hand awkwardly.

“So. You’re new.”

“Yes. Are there any more obvious statements you wish to impart?” Spock said. Jim laughed, lightly slapping Spock’s shoulder. Spock instantly went stiff.

“Sorry, sorry,” Jim said, holding up his hands. “I get the memo—no touching. I just didn’t expect you to make a joke. You seem pretty serious.”

“Thank you,” Spock said sincerely. Jim beamed. Almost everything about Spock surprised him, and what didn’t surprise him intrigued him. 

“And to answer your question, no, I don’t have any other obvious statements. I was gonna ask if you wanted to grab lunch, though. Sitting alone on your first day would suck, and me and my friends are pretty cool. Well, that’s a lie. We’re all nerds. But the good kind of nerds.”

Now Spock looked confused. “Why would we ‘grab’ lunch? Surely that would be a messy and inefficient way of eating.”

“It’s….it’s an expression,” Jim said, suddenly unsure of himself. Maybe it was something people only said in the midwest, like ‘ope’ instead of _oops_ or ‘cornhole’ instead of beanbags. Spock’s expression cleared instantly.

“Ah, of course. You meant to ask if I would like to sit with you and your companions while we eat?”

“Yeah, that,” Jim said. Spock considered for a few long seconds.

“Yes. I will eat with you.”

“Great!” 

Jim tried not to let it show how relieved he was. He didn’t want to come off as weird or pushy, but the part of his brain that loved puzzles demanded that he get to know this new kid better—that and the fact that Spock’s eyeshadow was really doing something for him. He hooked a finger through Spock’s backpack handle, careful not to touch him and started towing him towards the lunchroom. Spock went without complaint, but when Jim glanced back, he snickered at the look of pure confusion on the boy’s face.

The bridge crew was sitting right where they always did—halfway between the lunch line and the trophy cases, smack-dab in the middle of the room. Nyota waved at Jim with her fork. “Should we pull up another chair?” she called over the din.

“Yup, I’m just gonna show Spock how to navigate the lunch line,” Jim answered. Nyota saluted and went to bully a chair away from the jocks two tables over. 

Jim ushered Spock through the lunch line, watching with interest as Spock shook his head at the hamburger entree and loaded his tray up with fruits and veggies instead.

“Hold on, I’m gonna stop by the extras line,” Jim said. He returned with two PB&J sandwiches and a strawberry pop tart. He plopped one of the sandwiches on Spock’s tray.

“Vegetarian?” he asked.

Spock nodded. Jim grimaced in sympathy. “Yeah, we don’t really have veg options here. I hope you like PB&J, because that what you’ll be living on for the next eight months. Or salad.”

Spock quirked an eyebrow, which seemed to be his version of a smile. Jim took it as a good sign and he and Spock waded their way back to the table.

“Nuh-uh,” Bones said, snatching the pop tart out of Jim’s hand before he could even sit down.

Jim groaned. “Come on, Bones, it won’t hurt _too_ bad! Please, man, you know I hate the school’s food.”

“It won’t send you into anaphylactic shock, so it’s better than this. No pop tarts.”

“Is this person your guardian?” Spock asked. Bones and Jim both laughed.

“No, he’s my best friend and professional worrywart. Bones, Spock. Spock, Bones.”

“Jim’s allergic to everything under the sun, so it’s up to me to keep him from committing suicide via strawberry-flavored pastry,” Bones explained. He ruffled Jim’s hair affectionately. 

“Hi, I’m Nyota. This is Hikaru,” Nyota said, pointing to the boy in question.

Hikaru nodded his greeting, tucking away his phone before he could get caught with it. Spock cautiously perched on the edge of the seat next to Hikaru.

“Nah, man,” Jim said. “That’s Pavel’s seat. He’s second-wave lunch, so we only get like ten minutes together, but that’s where he sits. You can sit next to me.”

“Subtle,” Nyota muttered and Jim threw her a murderous glance.

“So, Spock, what brings you to Bumfuck, Iowa?” Hikaru asked while Spock changed seats. Spock looked up, vaguely alarmed. 

“I was under the impression the name of this town was Riverside. Am I in the incorrect place?”

“Nah, you’re in Riverside. I’m just saying it’s tiny and insignificant.”

“Ah,” Spock said, looking unsure as to how to answer.

“Where are you from?” Nyota asked. “And why did you move here?”

“My mother is the elementary school music teacher here. It was….suggested that I spend some time in her company before I attend academy,” Spock said, neatly skipping the first question.

“Academy? You looking at the military?” Jim asked. “My whole family is military; my brother Sam just enlisted a couple of years ago.”

“No, not American military. I am planning on attending a competitive science academy on my home—where I grew up.”

“Ooh, which school?” Nyota asked, beating Jim to the question.

“Vulcan Science Academy,” Spock answered, then cringed like he’d said something wrong.

“Huh, I’ve never heard of it. Vulcan as in Vulcan, Canada?” 

Spock poked at his food intensely instead of answering. Jim took pity on him.

“Come on, Nyota, ease up with the third degree. We want Spock to like us.”

“Oh, do we?” she asked pointedly.

Jim felt his face heat up. “Hey, don’t you have linguistics club during lunch today?” he asked. “I’d hate to keep you from _Christine._ You know how she misses you when you’re not there.”

Nyota looked down at her tray, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Second wave lunch. I have a hall pass,” she muttered.

“That’s my girl,” Jim said fondly. _Hall pass_ was code for ‘Nyota and Christine were 100% planning on making out in the library’s back room’ and he knew it.

Hikaru said, “hey, if Spock’s gonna sit with us he needs to get initiated."

“You’re right!” Jim exclaimed. He turned to Spock, who stopped with a bite of canned peaches halfway to his mouth. “How would you like to be part of the bridge crew?”

“Pardon me?” Spock asked.

“It’s our clique, kind of. You know, like the drama kids or the goths or the preps. We’re the bridge crew.”

“Better name than ‘the queer table’,” Bones muttered darkly. Jim threw him a glare and Bones shrugged. 

“Sorry, Jim, but it’s what people call us.”

“I mean, they’re not wrong, but they don’t have to be asses about it,” Jim said. “Anyway, we call ourselves the bridge crew because we’ve laid claim to the old bridge behind the school. It’s a pretty good spot to hang out. At least, when the stoners aren’t around.”

“What do you do there?” Spock asked. 

Jim shrugged. “Hang out and talk. Science experiments we can’t do inside. Hikaru and Pavel fence sometimes. Sometimes Nyota sings. Bones reads.”

“I study,” Bones corrected from behind a thick medical textbook.

“I would be interested in seeing this bridge. Afterward, I will make my decision on whether or not to join your ‘bridge crew’.”

“Perfect,” Jim beamed. The bell rang, making Spock start in surprise.

“Second wave. Later, guys!” Nyota said, grabbing her tray and making a beeline for the library. Pavel joined them a few minutes later, saying his hellos. 

“A new kid!” he said to Spock. 

“He’s Canadian,” Jim added smugly. 

“I’m a Russian exchange student,” Pavel said unnecessarily, as if Spock couldn’t hear his accent.

“I see.” 

“Hey, guys,” Scotty said, dropping into Nyota’s empty seat.

“Speaking of accents,” Jim muttered. “Are you suddenly Scottish now, Scotty?”

“I visited the homeland over the summer. Mighta picked up a wee bit of the accent, eh?”

“A wee bit, yeah,” Bones said dryly.

“Montgomery Scott,” Scotty said, holding his hand out to Spock. Spock didn’t shake his hand either, which made Jim feel a little bit better about his own rejected handshake.

“Spock Grayson,” Spock returned. “I am considering joining the bridge crew.”

“Are ya? News to me. Guys, you have to stop making decisions without me.”

“Not our fault you spend your whole lunch in the bowels of the shop classroom.”

“Not my fault it’s the most interesting place in the school!” Scotty argued. “Anyway, nice to meet you, Spock. Grayson, you say? Your ma teach music?”

“Yes, she does,” Spock said.

“Had a crush on her since I was a kid. Handsome woman. You look just like her,” Scotty said. Jim resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands, but only just. Spock looked utterly thrown.

“Okay,” Jim said hastily. “Spock, if you’re done, we can go check out the library. It’s pretty cool.”

“I would enjoy that, Jim,” Spock said. He stuffed two more bites of instant potatoes in his mouth and followed Jim toward the tray-dump. Jim did his best to ignore his burning ears and his friend’s knowing smiles. Was he really that obvious?

—

If he was being obvious about his quickly-growing crush on the weird new kid, Spock didn’t seem to notice. Little miracles. Mostly, Spock was interested in the library, and Jim understood the feeling. Riverside High may not be much to look at, but their library was the best in the county.

Spock nabbed some books off the shelf and sat down at an oak table to read. Jim grabbed a well-worn (by Jim) copy of _A Tale of Two Cities_ and sat opposite Spock. After a few moments spent in silence, Jim sighed and closed his book. It just wasn’t pulling him in the way it usually did. He watched Spock read until that felt weird and stalker-y, and then fidgeted in his seat, trying to find something to occupy him. His eyes kept drifting back to Spock. He was deep into his book, his dark, dark eyes scanning the pages at an incredible speed.

“So,” Jim said softly. Spock looked up.

Jim didn’t really have anything to say, so he groped around for a topic. “What’s up with your hat? I get religious reasons—I wear my kippah when I go to temple—but I’ve never heard of a religion with that particular kind of head covering.”

Spock pulled at the edges of his hat, bringing it further down until it was nearly covering his eyes. It was a slouchy cap, the kind Jim thought were cool at fourteen, dark blue and looked hand-knitted. Jim could see the edges of Spock’s hair from under it, straight and shiny black.

“I follow the teachings of Surak,” Spock said. 

“Who’s that?”

Spock closed his book, his dark eyes suddenly sharp and focused. Jim leaned forward without thinking, wanting to get closer to that intense look. Spock said, “Surak was a very wise…leader. A philosopher and a pacifist. He advocated for logic as a driving force of a person and encouraged total emotional control. His teachings have allowed me to embrace my true nature more successfully than any other method.”

Jim couldn’t help smiling. “Kind of ironic, huh? You’re talking about emotional control and this is the most excited I’ve ever seen you.”

It was like someone flipped a switch. Spock’s eyes went cold and blank, and the crinkles around his eyes slackened until his face was totally emotionless. He leaned back, away from Jim and opened his book. 

Jim backpedaled. “Geez, that was stupid of me to say. I’m sorry, Spock. I shouldn’t have—”

“I thank you for allowing me to sit with your friend group and showing me the library. Good day, Jim.”

“Spock, I’m really sorry, I’m always saying dumb shit.”

Spock did not respond. He stuck his books in his backpack and stood up abruptly. Jim knew better than to follow him—he wasn’t that much of an asshole.

“Hey, please don’t give my friends the cold shoulder because of my dumb ass. We’ll be at the bridge today at four. I know they’ll want to see you.”

A very long pause.

“I will consider it,” Spock said. He left. As soon as he was gone, Jim groaned and banged his head on the table.

“Great job, Kirk,” he muttered. He grabbed his book and headed for the door, hoping Spock wasn’t in any of his afternoon classes.

—

Spock showed up the bridge, thank god. Jim jumped up, throwing down his book as Spock approached.

“Hello, everyone,” Spock said coolly, nodding at each of them—except Jim. Jim slowly sat back down, resigning himself to his self-imposed ban until Spock forgave him. It wasn’t a stellar way to begin a friendship. But Jim was good at making the best out a bad situation, so he felt confident he could get around this minor hiccup. Eventually. In the meantime, the rest of the bridge crew had plenty to say, and Spock seemed content enough to talk to them. He was cagey about his personal life but happy to talk about his passion in science, shared with Scotty and Hikaru. He also apparently was interested in linguistics, which made Nyota light up. She started chattering on about her first language, Swahili. She said something Jim didn’t quite catch, but Spock’s eyebrows jumped up. 

“Fascinating,” he said. “We have a similar word in…” he trailed off.

“Do you speak another language? What is it?” Nyota asked. Spock hesitated. 

“I…should not say,” he admitted.

“Why not?”

“Earlier, Hikaru mentioned that I would need to be initiated,” Spock said. “What does that entail?”

“So you’ve decided to join?” Jim asked hopefully. Maybe he hadn’t fucked up everything too badly with his big mouth.

“Yes. Your ‘bridge crew’ is diverse, welcoming, and intelligent. You will be model classmates and acquaintances for me.”

“Don’t get all sappy on us or anything,” Bones said in his gruffly kind way.

“Hush, Leonard,” Nyota said. She beckoned the others toward her. They shuffled around until Spock was standing in the middle of the bridge surrounded on all sides by the bridge crew.

“Spock Grayson. Before you can join the bridge crew, I must ask you some questions. Answer honestly or forever be rejected from this group,” Jim intoned solemnly.

“Understood,” Spock said. 

“Question one: are you homophobic? Because all of us are at least a little gay and you can’t hang with us if you’re nasty.”

“I am…not sure what you are asking. Homophobic?”

“Do you hate gay people?” Bones asked bluntly.

“To do so would be illogical. Are there people like that here?”

Jim scoffed. “Hell yeah. Too many of ‘em.”

“Fascinating. No, I am not.”

“Good. Do you acknowledge that Nyota Uhura is the coolest person here and will continue to be the queen of our very small universe for the foreseeable future?”

“Say yes,” Nyota whispered. 

“Yes,” Spock repeated uncertainly.  
“Good answer. Last question: how do you feel about 3 am Culver’s runs?”

“I…I have never experienced one before. I would be interested in finding out what it is like.”

“Congrats, Spock, you are now part of the bridge crew,” Hikaru said gravely. Then he smiled and threw an arm around Spock’s shoulder.

“Anyway, we’re here most of the time. Tell us where you live and we’ll go on one of those Culver’s runs tonight.”

—

Spock came to school the next morning looking way too well rested for someone who was up until five am the previous night. Jim felt like bloated, gassy death warmed over, and he was sure he looked like it, too. 

Spock greeted him with a nod, which Jim returned with a smile. Somewhere around four am, when the rest of the crew was ordering round two of greasy food and ice cream, Jim apologized for real to Spock for what he had said. Spock had taken with grace.

“I have had time to meditate on what you said, Jim,” he’d said. “It became clear to me that your words intended no malice. They provided me an opportunity to examine an obvious weakness. I was far too emotional while discussing Surak’s teachings, a clear contradiction to his and my philosophies. My enthusiasm will be curbed from now on.”

“So…you forgive me?” Jim asked hopefully.

“Yes,” Spock said decisively. “In fact, I thank you.”

“Well, don’t go that far. I was being a bit of an asshole,” Jim said. He grinned at Spock and held up his cement mixer—Bones approved with no Jim-killing ingredients and extra sprinkles. “Here’s to me being less of an ass. Cheers.”

Spock tapped the rim of his diet coke against the cup. “Indeed.”

So they were alright now. 

Today, Spock was no longer in his poncho thingy. Instead, he was wearing a button up shirt and pressed slacks, still with that slouchy hat. Today’s hat was dark purple instead of dark blue. Jim wondered if Spock was going to make his way through the whole rainbow, or if he only had the two hats. His eyeshadow looked periwinkle blue against the purple of the hat. Casually, Jim swiped at the corner of his own eye with a thumb, hoping Spock would notice. He didn’t disappoint, because Spock took a step closer and said, “Jim, are you wearing….makeup?”

“Yeah,” Jim said, grinning. He’d smudged some eyeliner around his eyes this morning, hoping to disguise the bags under them and risked a bit of glittery gold eyeshadow. And some glossy chapstick. “You like it? I saw yours yesterday and remembered how much I miss doing my makeup. I used to wear it more often but…certain people didn’t like that very much.”

Jim punctuated that statement with a carefree shrug. Spock frowned.

“What do you mean?”

Jim’s shrug was awkward this time. “I dunno, assholes. I got bullied for it in middle school so I just kinda…stopped. I’ve been meaning to start again and you inspired me.” 

“Interesting. My appearance provoked a strong reaction in you?”

Jim choked on a laugh. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“Why?”

Jim flushed. “God, what do you want me to say? You’re hot, is that what you wanted to hear?”

Spock flicked his fingers as if to brush aside that statement. “You only find me physically attractive? There is nothing else noticeable about my appearance?”

“Uh…no?” Jim felt a little bit like he’d lost the plot. “Is there…supposed to be?”

“No,” Spock said decisively. “Thank you for your input, Jim. It has been most helpful. I will see you in homeroom.”

“Okay,” Jim said slowly.

Spock stopped, turned back, and said, “Jim, I neglected to mention earlier: your makeup is aesthetically pleasing.”

A swarm of butterflies erupted in Jim’s stomach. He didn’t stop smiling for the rest of the morning.

—

The first few weeks of the year passed fairly quickly, helped along by a full schedule and regular meetings on the bridge. They had to get their kicks in while it was still September and warm outside. Winter came early in Iowa and stayed most of the year, so once they hit early November, bridge meetings would dwindle to once a week and then move to someone’s house until the spring thaw.

Jim didn’t really want to think about how this was his last year to hang out on that bridge or sleep over on someone’s basement floor on school nights. If it wasn’t for the bridge crew, he would have no reservations about fucking off to college and never coming back to Riverside. It was mostly because of them that he hadn’t taken early graduation his junior year, honestly. This spring he, Nyota, Bones, and Scotty would graduate and go their separate ways. Hikaru and Scotty would follow the next year, and Chekov the year after that. He’d spent so long waiting to graduate and leave, but now that it was staring him in the face, he didn’t really want to. He was resolved to make the best of the time he had left—a sentiment that seemed to be shared by the rest of his friends.

Spock slipped into the bridge crew like he was always meant to be there. Jim knew the others considered him their leader—as much as a friend group needed a leader. Until Spock, Nyota had pretty much been second in command. She relinquished that title to Spock gladly, since she was pretty busy with school, work, and Christine. 

Spock and Jim just…worked well together, for whatever reason. No matter when harebrained scheme Jim came up with (and there were quite a few, including a spectacular one involving the science lab, frozen dissection mice, and a copy of _Frankenstein_ ), Spock managed to keep Jim’s plans on track while also making them safer and more sensible. The core of the bridge crew hung out as often as usual, but Jim and Spock started spending more time together aside from the daily meetings. Maybe it helped that Spock only lived a few miles away from Jim’s farmhouse—and in the country, a few miles was pretty much as close as neighbors could get.

Maybe that was why what had started as an idle crush on Spock developed so quickly into what Jim’s mom affectionately called his “ass over teakettle” mode of crush. Either Spock was a fantastic actor or he really didn’t notice Jim’s giant crush on him. Both options were a little disappointing, but Jim didn’t want to upset the balancing act happening between them. Spock, though…Spock didn’t seem _un_ interested. He still shied away every time Jim tried to casually hold his hand, but he leaned into other touches—shoulder touches, half-hugs, affectionate head-pats, and the idle pokes Jim littered all over his friends. So sue him, he was a tactile person! Anyway, Spock always seemed surprised but not annoyed when Jim graced him with similar touches. He even returned a few, hesitantly. Jim made sure to beam at him every time, making Spock more confident and sure. 

Jim certainly wasn’t expecting his attempt to kiss Spock one night, laying side-by-side stargazing on the last chilly-but-not-cold night of the year, to go so well. It wasn’t a fully formed thought when he did it. He just looked over at Spock, saw his serious eyes shining in the dark—like a cat, Jim’s love-addled mind supplied—and his body moved on its own accord. 

“Hey,” he said quietly, pushing himself up on his elbows. Spock turned his head towards Jim and lifted his eyebrows in a silent question. That brought their faces closer together and Jim didn’t hesitate. He just leaned in, brushing his mouth over Spock’s. He drew back instantly, worried that he’d overstepped a boundary. Spock sat up fully, raising his hand to his mouth.

“Interesting,” he said. 

“Interesting?” Jim echoed nervously. “Good interesting or bad interesting?”

“Unknown. But interesting, nonetheless. Jim, do you to pursue a romantic relationship with me?”

The question caught him off guard. He sat up too, wishing there was enough moonlight to read the expression on Spock’s face. 

“Yes,” he said finally because he wanted to honest with Spock. He wanted that, very, very badly.

When Spock did not respond, Jim ventured a question of his own. “And what about you? Do you want to go out with me?”

“Do you know why I came here, Jim?” he asked instead. 

“To spend time with your mom, right? That’s what you told us on the first day of school.”

Spock drew his legs up to his body and clasped his hands around his ankles. It was the most vulnerable position Jim had ever seen him in. That worried him, and although his hands itched to rest on Spock’s shoulder comfortingly, he kept his hands to himself for once.

“That is the truth, but there is more to it. I grew up under my father and in a culture much different than this. I wanted to spend time with my mother and learn about the other half of my heritage. It has been difficult for me to embrace…the ways things are here. I was taught to operate solely on logic. I have striven to contain my emotions to the best of my ability. Yet, to please my mother, I have been attempting to ‘loosen up’. Meeting you and the bridge crew has helped exponentially with this. I find you, in particular, inspire in me rebellion that would be unacceptable at home with my father.”

“Okay…” Jim said, a little lost. Something warmed in his chest, hearing Spock confide in him like this, but he was still nervous about the kiss.

“I am not bothered,” Spock said slowly, “knowing that my father would disapprove.”

And then he took Jim’s wrist and brought it up between the two of them. Jim’s lips parted in a question, but nothing came out. The intensity on Spock’s face told him he would do better not to interrupt this. Slowly, Spock extended two fingers on his free hand, like a finger gun. There was a grace to it, though, a weight of importance that Jim didn’t fully understand. His own hand was still between them, half-curled in on itself, still unsure of its purpose in this strange charade. Spock’s two extended fingers deliberately reached out and caressed Jim’s hand. Gently, Spock used the backs of his fingers to guide Jim’s into the same position: the pointer and middle fingers extended fully and pressed together, the others tucked out of the way. Then, just as deliberately, Spock turned his fingers so the pads of their fingers met. A quiet breath released between them as the tips of their fingers brushed. Jim couldn’t say if it had come from him or from Spock. There was reverence in his face. Uncertainty, also, and curiosity and something that looked like fear. Jim glanced between their hands and Spock’s face, unsure as to which confused him more. But, ever the quick learner, Jim shifted his fingers. Not a lot. He just moved his fingers down to the knuckle of Spock’s and back again. 

Spock gasped, his mouth dropping open. 

“Did I do that right?” Jim asked.

“Yes,” Spock breathed.

“Can I kiss you?”

“You are,” Spock said absently, his full concentration still on their hands. “That is, you may,” he corrected.

Jim lowered his hand, breaking the contact, and kissed Spock on the mouth. This time, he didn’t pull away, and neither did Spock. Jim’s hands had dropped to his lap, but they didn’t stay there long—Spock’s hand sought his again, resuming that strange touch. Jim didn’t begrudge him that, though, because he was _kissing Spock._ Jim leaned back after a few moments, needing a second to catch his breath. He pressed one hand to his heart, a little embarrassed at how hard it was pounding.

“I’ve wanted to do that for forever,” he admitted. “Like, since the first day I met you.”

“I am glad I met you, Jim Kirk,” Spock said in reply. 

Jim continued, a little dreamily, “I’m glad I asked you to come stargazing with me tonight.”

They went back to the stars for a while, each lost to his own thoughts. Jim could feel, acutely, the distance between them. He could lean in and press their shoulders together. He could take Spock’s hand, like in a regular hand-holding way. He could rest his head against Spock’s shoulder. The possibilities were endless, and for the first time, not completely out of reach.

“Jim,” Spock said lowly, interrupting his daydreaming. “Would you like to resume kissing?”

“Oh, god, yeah.”

Jim didn’t want to rush things with Spock. Really, he didn’t. He wasn’t as fast as the rumors at school said he was, and despite how heated he got kissing Spock, he felt strangely unhurried. They ended up laying on the ground again, Spock flat on his back and Jim half leaning over him. When Jim disengaged from Spock, Spock lifted his head to chase Jim’s lips. The movement made Spock’s hat catch on the grass and it slipped off. Jim stifled a breathy laugh, a long-asked question about Spock answered—yes, he did have hat hair. 

Spock’s eyes widened and he sat up so fast Jim toppled backward and landed hard on the ground. 

“Are you okay?” Jim asked, brows furrowed.

“My hat,” Spock replied tersely, the closest to panic Jim had ever heard him. Jim felt around on the ground but it must have been behind Spock’s body. Spock hunched over, clapping his hands over his ears.

“What’s wrong?” 

“Jim,” Spock said, but that was all. He seemed to be fighting an internal battle. He squeezed his eyes shut. Jim felt behind him and eventually came up with the hat. Spock opened his eyes, his body relaxing, and Jim held it out to him. Instead of taking it, Spock lowered his hands slowly. Then, eyes locked with Jim’s, he tucked the ends of his hair behind his ears. His….pointy ears. They were tinted a strange greenish color, devoid of that thick beige concealer that covered his face.

“What,” Jim said weakly.

“I did not wish to tell you, but if we are to be romantically entangled, it will be a greater hurt to keep this from you.”

“I’m sorry?” Jim said, a little stronger, and with something resembling panic creeping into his chest. Spock’s eyebrows came together and Jim noticed for the first time how sharply sloped they were. Wonderingly, Jim reached out and touched the tip of Spock’s right ear. He shuddered under Jim’s touch and Jim immediately pulled back. It hadn’t been a bad shudder, but Jim thought maybe they should nix the touchy stuff until some questions got answered.

“Spock, what is happening right now?”

“I am from Vulcan. Not the city in Canada, North America. I am from the planet Vulcan, and I am a Vulcan myself. My mother, Amanda Grayson, who is fully human and my Vulcan father, S'chn T’gai Sarek, had a clandestine relationship that resulted in my birth. I was raised by my father, who wished me to be fully Vulcan.”

“But you wanted to know the other half of your heritage,” Jim said dumbly, his memory firing quicker than the rest of him could catch up.

“Yes. I did not expect to make ‘friends’ while spending this year with my mother. I certainly did not expect to find a ‘boyfriend’. However, it has happened, and I do not regret it. You would be hurt if I did not tell you at the beginning of our relationship. Therefore, I am telling you now.”

That was too much information for Jim to sort out in one go, so he latched on to the dumbest part of it. 

“Boyfriend?”

Spock cocked his head. “Is that not what we are? Two young men in a romantic relationship, not yet a married pair?”

“Whoa, okay. Holy shit, I have a boyfriend. Holy _shit, my boyfriend is an alien._ ”

“Jim. Are you alright? You look as though you may faint. I will get some water for you.”

Spock started to get up, but Jim grabbed a handful of his shirt and pulled him down.

“I’m alright, Spock. I promise. I just….I have to work through this. Can you just….sit with me for a minute?”

Spock nodded. Jim knotted his hands further into Spock’s shirt. He closed his eyes, breathing in through his nose. Spock. Spock was an alien. Spock liked him. Spock was an alien who liked him. Spock kissed him. Many times. Spock was an alien who liked him and kissed him many times and was an alien.

“Holy shit,” Jim murmured. He looked up and grinned. “You’re an alien.”

“Yes, Jim, I am aware. As are you.”

“That is so fucking cool.”

“Are you upset?”

Jim shrugged, more flippantly than he felt. “No? I don’t think so, at least. I still need some time to process and I have about a billion questions, but mostly….I want to kiss you and not stop for a long, long time.”

The barest hint of a smile—a real smile—tugged at Spock’s mouth and he said, “I would be quite amenable to this, Jim.”

This time, when he extended his fingers, Jim understood.

“That’s kissing for you!” he exclaimed. 

“Yes, this is the Vulcan way. However, as half-Vulcan, I am also agreeable to human kissing.”

“Great, I can swing both ways on that, too,” Jim said. Their hands and lips met at the same time. The stars spun above them but neither one paid them any mind. They had more important things to attend to.


End file.
